


Imagine: Castiel returning to you after being lost in the Empty.

by webcricket



Series: Castiel Imagines [26]
Category: Supernatural
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-20
Updated: 2017-11-20
Packaged: 2019-02-04 13:26:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12772020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/webcricket/pseuds/webcricket
Summary: SPN Season 13 spoilers!





	Imagine: Castiel returning to you after being lost in the Empty.

“I know what zombies are!” Jack exclaimed, mouth drawn into a proud smile, ecstatic to share with Castiel, his chosen protector, all the knowledge and skills he had learned in the angel’s absence.

Castiel’s neck bobbed in sincere approval, but the glimmer of a smile on his lips faltered as his thoughts drifted to you. The angel was happy to see Jack safe, glad to see him in the capable care of the Winchesters, and relieved the Nephilim appeared to be adapting to this way of life. It worried him that you were nowhere to be seen. Dean said you’d be here. When he escaped the Empty, his first call had been to you. He hung up before the line rang. He couldn’t tell you he was back – alive – not over the phone, not when you would have so many questions. Questions he could not answer from a distance. Reassurances he could not give you from afar. You deserved more, and so he called Dean to bring him home. How long was I gone? The elder Winchester’s answer haunted him: Too damn long.

“Where’s Y/N?” Dean asked, seeing the concern writ in his friend’s strained aspect.

Jack’s animated features fell, answering, “After dinner, she said she was tired.” His focus shot to Cas, explaining, “When she says she’s tired, it really means she’s very sad.”

Cas’ shoulders slumped, his blue eyes gleaming wet.

“And when she’s sad,” Jack continued, “I’m supposed to give her space. Unless it’s an emergency, and then it’s okay to knock on her door.” He glanced to Sam, seeking his confirmation of this fact.

Sam nodded.

Jack’s attention settled again on the angel, cocking his head when he noticed the unshed tears dimming his expression, curiously inquiring, “Are you tired too?”

“Yeah Jack,” Dean placed a palm on the boy’s shoulder, quieting him. “And that means he needs some space too, so why don’t you tell Sam and I about this case you found.”

Jack’s brow knotted as he watched Cas turn to leave, stuttering, “O-okay.”

Cas opened your bedroom door slowly, remembering to lift it slightly by the knob when it swung precisely 4.3 inches inward to prevent the hinges from creaking. He slipped across the threshold, regard fixed on the bed. He observed your huddled form – knees tucked into your chest, cheeks puffy and streaked red from crying, the steady movement of your breath indicating you found the fitful slumber you sought. Closing the door behind himself, he shrugged off the still foreign fitting trench coat and hung it with a familiar sweep of his arm on the hook behind the door. He missed the hanger by a smidge, and the garment puddled on the floor. Walking toward you, he kicked off his shoes, haphazardly leaving them several feet apart in the middle of the floor in his haste. He did not hesitate upon reaching the edge of the mattress, crawling onto the bed and curling up beside you.

Unconsciously aware of his presence, you snuggled into his chest.

He wrapped his arms around you, nestling his unshaven chin into your hair as he held you tight and exhaled a shaky sigh. Closing his eyes, the tears flowed freely over his lashes to dampen your hair.

In the Empty nothing existed. In the weight of the profound silence there, he could not recall the gentle whooshing of air in and out of your lungs or evoke the comforting music of your rhythmic heartbeat. Senses dulled by the blanket of nothingness, he forgot the tingling warmth of your skin beneath his fingertips. He had wandered in the endless bleak black landscape for so long, he’d almost forgotten, too, what it was like to bask in the the radiant light of your soul.

“Cas?”

His damp eyes flickered open to your groggy countenance.

“Is this a dream?” you asked, brushing your fingers through his hair. “Am I asleep?

“No,” he whispered, shaking his head and pressing a tender kiss to your trembling lips. “No, and neither am I. Not anymore.”


End file.
